Without Further Warning, The Sky

In Books, The Truth Makes Everything Good And Fine. The Good Prevail. The Wicked Are Punished. There Is Happiness. But It's Not Like That Really, Is It?" "no," I Say. "i Suppose It Only Makes Everything Known.

I Don't Have Time To Feel Sorry For Myself. I've Got To Think.

But Aren't Many Gardens Beautiful Because They Are Imperfect?...aren't The Strange, New Flowers That Arise By Mistake Or Misadventure As Pleasing As The Well-tended And Planned?

I Hear They Feed You In Sing Sing,” Evie Muttered. “three Squares A Day.” “evangeline,” Will Said With A Sigh. “charity Begins At Home.” “so Does Mental Illness.

Our Mouths And Bodies Speak For Us In A New Language As The Trees Shake Loose A Rain Of Petals That Stick To Our Slickness Like Skins We Will Wear Forever. And Just Like That, I Am Changed.